


There Will Be Rest

by Kate04



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 06:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13335162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate04/pseuds/Kate04
Summary: Set after season 6 – How is Andy dealing with having to go on without Sharon? This is not AU so it deserves aWARNING for character death– and not just one, but I still think that it has a somewhat happy-ish ending, all things considered.Rating is due to subject matter.





	There Will Be Rest

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** This piece was written right after _the episode that shall not be named_ , so it is sort of AU by now. It does deal with the aftermath of _the event that shall not be named_ , so there is death and heartbreak in this, but maybe the ending is a little more satisfying for you than what we actually got, even though it is sad. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** Not my toys, but I so wish they were!  
>  The title is shamelessly borrowed from a poem by Sara Teasdale.

> _Do not stand at my grave and weep,_
> 
> _I am not there; I do not sleep._
> 
> _I am a thousand winds that blow,_
> 
> _I am the diamond glints on snow,_
> 
> _I am the sun on ripened grain,_
> 
> _I am the gentle autumn rain._
> 
> _When you awaken in the morning’s hush_
> 
> _I am the swift uplifting rush_
> 
> _Of quiet birds in circling flight._
> 
> _I am the soft starlight at night._
> 
> _Do not stand at my grave and weep._
> 
> _I am not there; I do not sleep._
> 
> _Do not stand at my grave and cry_
> 
> _I am not there. I did not die._
> 
>  
> 
> \- Mary Elizabeth Frye

 

He had given her his word that he would look after her children if something should happen to her. While he had not hesitated to make that promise and had meant every word of it, Andy had not considered the possibility that, barely a week later, he would have to do exactly that. At the time, he had thought her request to be extremely premature, an impression that had changed a little once her doctor had been done with his tests and had come to talk to them. She had not been getting better, and while she had said that she was going to do what was necessary, her stubborn insistence to keep working had concerned him. That was ultimately her undoing. He wished that he could be angry at her for that, and for a short while he had been. She should not have been at the office at all, let alone conducted an interview. Most of all, however, he blamed himself for not having been more persistent in his efforts to make her stay at home and rest. 

He had talked to Father Stan about that, and the man had actually laughed. No one made Sharon Raydor do anything she did not want to do. When their priest told him that Sharon had come to see him to receive last rites the day before her death, Andy had cried for long moments, sobs shaking his body as the other man had placed a hand on his arm in support. Father Stan had not been able to reveal much of what he and Sharon had talked about, but he had reasoned that she would have wanted her husband to know that she had been ready, that she had been at peace with her fate, even if she had not really wanted to leave her family. 

Andy thought about that often. She had prepared herself, put her affairs in order, left instructions for the people she left behind, and she had made sure that they knew how much she loved them. It should make him angry that she seemed to have known what would happen, that she had willingly put herself in a situation where her death could be the outcome, but it did not. It was possibly the most _Sharon_ thing she had ever done. She had died putting someone else’s needs before her own, she had gone out doing the job they both loved – getting justice for those who were no longer able to speak for themselves. He would always regret that she had not allowed someone else to take over, but she wanted to get the job done. That was also very Sharon. 

The day she had come home from the hospital she had told him that she wished that he and her children did not have to see her suffer, to put their lives on hold to deal with hers. He had insisted that she was wrong, that losing her would never be easier than being by her side while she fought to get better, and as far as he was concerned, that was still true. In the months since her death, he had watched Sharon’s children, however, and he had to admit that she might have had a point. They had mourned their mother’s death, they had cried and raged and cried some more. They had helped him arrange her funeral and offered to assist in settling the legal matters and sorting through her things. He had declined, unwilling to let them deal with the practicalities of their mother’s death, and unable to face the monumental task of deciding what to do with her possessions. 

Her clothes still occupied their closet, leaving him with barely enough space for his own considerable wardrobe and constantly stumbling over her favorite pair of shoes. She had toed out of them inside their walk-in closet the night before she died, too exhausted to bend down to pick them up and place them on the shelf where they belonged. That night, he had rolled his eyes, because it was not the first time he almost fell over a pair of discarded shoes. He had wanted to put them away, but she had told him to leave them and come to bed. He still remembered how she had snuggled into his side, how her lips had felt on his as she had kissed him passionately. He still heard the soft, husky whisper of her voice against his ear as she had told him how much she wanted to make love to him. He had told her that they would be able to do that again soon, had kissed her once again and allowed his hands to caress her body, to comfort and soothe her until she fell asleep in his arms. She had not liked sleeping like that, had always sent him back to his side of the bed before they turned off the light. The most he had been able to get away with was holding her hand, but that had already been pushing it. That she had sought him out like that and held on to him throughout the night should have tipped him off that something was wrong. In hindsight, he was glad that she had allowed him that pleasure, and maybe a part of him had known, as he had barely slept at all that night, too focused on the feeling of her breath against his bare chest, on her comforting warmth and her solid presence right next to him. He had watched her sleep that night, taking in her beauty and reflecting on how lucky he was to have her in his life, to be loved by her. 

Her children had started to move on. It was a process, and they struggled, but they had jobs and school to get back to, friends to focus on. Ricky and Emily called him twice a week, like they had their mother. They told him about their days and asked him how he was doing, trying to give him comfort. He knew that they were worried about him, that they had tasked Rusty with keeping a close eye on him and keeping them updated. He appreciated that they cared so much, when his own children seemed to be too busy to be there for him. That was okay. He did not want them to put their lives on hold to take care of their old man, but the truth was that he missed them and that he was lonely. 

Rusty was still living with him, and if he had let him, the boy would have put off going to law school until summer in order to stay close to his step-father. It had taken some effort, but Andy had put his foot down, insisting Rusty focus on his future, because that was what his mother would have wanted. He was still interning for Andrea Hobbs and spent a lot of time with Buzz and Provenza as well. He had also managed to repair his relationship with Gus, and the two young men were trying to figure out how to be happy together despite all their baggage. Andy had a feeling that it might just work out in the end. They both surely were stubborn enough. 

Christmas had been especially hard. He had been elated at the idea of their first holiday season as a real family, and there had been so many plans. Ricky and Emily were supposed to visit, and he had hopes that his own children might want to join them for their Christmas Eve party with their entire division. In the end, it had only been Sharon’s kids, Gus, and Andy. They had tried to recapture Sharon’s sense of occasion, to decorate the condo with Sharon’s beloved angels, to make her famous eggnog and bake cookies together. They had shared stories of Sharon and her love for that particular holiday, they had cried when Rusty had told them that, before Sharon, he had never really celebrated Christmas and what she had responded when he had commented on her angel obsession. _You can never have too many angels._ She had been their angel, and her absence was keenly felt. 

They had visited her grave right before midnight mass, lighting a candle and placing a bouquet of white lilies into the empty stone vase that waited to be filled. Each of them had said a few words, telling her how much she was missed, how much they loved her. Before they had left to head into the warmly lit church, Andy had placed a small crystal angel on top of the headstone, its wings spread protectively over the grave of his love, its hands folded in silent prayer. 

Andy had gone back to work following Sharon’s death, mostly because he had promised her to take care of her children, and part of that was making sure they caught Phillip Stroh. Once they had accomplished that, he had simply kept getting up each morning. He had showed up at work every day, because what else was there for him to do? The condo was empty most of the day, except for all the reminders of the wife that no longer was beside him. He went through the motions, did what she expected him to do, but there was no longer any joy in it. He had lost interest in his work, the one thing that had kept him alive after Sandra had kicked him out so many years ago. Without Sharon sitting in her office, without the sound of her heels on the linoleum floor, the faint scent of her perfume as she breezed by his desk, it was just another painful reminder that she was no longer with them. 

Many nights, when he was alone and standing on their balcony overlooking the park she had loved so much, he found himself talking to her. He told her about the new project that Ricky and his partner had started, about the man that Emily had met – a cop with the NYPD, about Rusty’s papers, about the discussions they had about various aspects of the law. He kept her updated on everything their team did, about Provenza’s thoughts of retirement and Buzz’ desire to become a detective. And always, always he reminded her how much she was loved, and how much he wished that they could be together again. 

As the months went by, it became harder and harder for him to keep going, to pretend that he was not so broken inside that every breath, every heartbeat was agony. In the beginning, he had been needed. Her children had looked to him for strength and guidance, especially Rusty had leaned on him and had needed reassurance that his mother would be proud of him, that she would approve of the way he lived his life. That was not longer the case. For the most part, they had found their feet again, they still missed her terribly, but they had moved on, finding strength in her memory. 

They came home for her birthday. Emily even brought the man that had stolen her heart, and Andy had to admit that he was pretty great, a detective dedicated to his job, a kind man with honest eyes, who looked at Emily the same way he had looked at Sharon. There was love and respect between the two of them, and enough realism to give them a chance at making it work in the long run. He was glad that Emily had decided to bring Steve along. She had been reluctant to ask, just as she had hesitated to tell Andy about their relationship in the beginning. She did not want to flaunt her happiness when her step-father still missed his wife so desperately. She felt guilty for having found what he had lost, but he had reassured her that it did him good to see her happy, and that her mother would have wanted that for her as well. 

They visited her grave with flowers and words of love before they stepped into the church to pray together, grateful that Father Stan found a moment to join them. Andy wished that he could say it helped, and maybe it did a little bit, because it made him feel closer to her, but it did not take away the debilitating pain of her absence. Afterwards, they sat together around the dining room table, Sharon’s favorite flowers in the center, the scent of some of her favorite dishes wafting on the air. They talked about the woman that connected them, but mostly he listened quietly as the three young adults talked about their lives, about the things that made them happy, about their successes and trials. That, more than anything, was honoring Sharon. She had raised these wonderful people. She had taught them about right and wrong, about resilience and patience, about grace and courage, and above all else, about kindness and love. She had given them the best possible preparation for living a life that was just as rich and fulfilling as hers had been. He only wished that she were there to enjoy it with him. 

That night, Emily and Steve left them to stay at a hotel down the street, leaving Ricky to his couch and Rusty in sole possession of his room. They had all long retired to their respective beds, but Andy still sat outside, the ugly red blanket Sharon had loved so much draped over his lap, and a cup of her favorite herbal tea in his hands, the few remaining sips too cold to enjoy. It was out there on the balcony that he felt closest to her, not their bedroom that still held all her clothes, where the black pinstripe blazer she had worn to work the day before her death was still draped over the back of a chair and the book she had been reading still sat on her nightstand. 

He looked out into the night, at the brightly lit city that stretched for miles and miles before his eyes. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes and listened to the wind, he almost felt her presence beside him, heard her soft sighs and the gentle rustling of her shifting in her chair. 

It was one of those nights when she felt so close that he was almost tempted to reach out for her. Instead he allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of her presence, even though he knew that it was an illusion. It felt real enough for him. 

“Emily’s boyfriend is nice,” he murmured into the warm night air. “You would like him. He seems to be one of those by the book cops.” The thought made him smile.

He knew that Sharon would worry about her daughter having a partner with such a dangerous job, even though she had grown up with that constant concern. It was not the kind of life her mother had envisioned for her, but Steve was a good man, and he obviously loved Emily very much. They would be okay. 

“Rusty and Gus are thinking about moving in together in a few months,” he continued his report to the breeze. “I think this time they will make it work. They have grown so close over what happened.” He still had a hard time saying the words, even all these months later. 

Sighing once more, he rubbed one of his hands over the soft fabric of the blanket. The wind was picking up, and it was getting too cold to be sitting outside in a short-sleeved button-down. Setting his cup aside, he slowly rose from the chair, his body aching and stiff. He folded the blanket neatly, the way Sharon had insisted on, before he draped it over the back of the chair. Collecting his cup, he made his way inside, grabbing a few stray dishes on the way and depositing them in the dishwasher as quietly as possible. It was unlikely that he would wake Ricky, since the young man would sleep through an explosion, but he was still careful. 

He went though his nightly routine the same way he had done since he moved in with Sharon. Some nights, he still expected her to come up behind him as he stood in front of the mirror and slip her arms around him, her soft body pressed against his back. He often walked through the door connecting the bathroom to their bedroom, hoping to find her already in bed, back resting against the headboard, and a book in her lap. She loved to read and had constantly bemoaned the fact that she never had enough time for it. During the nights when sleep would not come to him, Andy sometimes picked up her book and read from it aloud, thinking that maybe she would be able to hear him.

Reaching over her side of the bed, he retrieved the thick paperback and opened it to the page he had marked the last time. There were only a few more pages to read, and he was determined to finish it. His quiet rumble filled the room as he began to speak, his voice rising and falling as he tried to bring the words on the page to life for her.

  

Emily and Steve had brought fresh croissants for breakfast, and the mouthwatering aroma of freshly brewed coffee and fried eggs and bacon filled the condo. Rusty had been up for more than two hours already, and even Ricky had managed to get showered and dressed a while earlier. There was only one person missing from the group seated around the dining room table. It was odd that he was not up already. Andy was not a heavy sleeper, especially since Sharon’s death. He hardly slept at all these days. For him to still be out at almost ten in the morning was very unusual.

Rusty finally decided to go check on the older man, too hungry to spend any more time in front of all that delicious food without eating it. When he received no answer to his repeated knocks, he eased the door open carefully. 

“Andy? Are you up, yet? Emily and Steve are here and breakfast is ready.” 

There was no reaction. Andy was slumped against the headboard, an open book still resting in his lap, precariously perched on his thighs and in serious danger of slipping to the floor. His head had fallen forward, his chin resting on his chest. It looked extremely uncomfortable, and Rusty worried that the other man would have a stiff neck and aching back when he woke up. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rusty gently took the book, closed it, and put it aside, not bothering with the bookmark, since it was opened to the very last page. It was when he placed a hand on Andy’s shoulder to wake him that Rusty noticed that the older man was not breathing. For a brief moment, his eyes widened and his stomach dropped as panic filled him. He frantically searched for a pulse, but found none. The Lieutenant’s skin was cold and pale, indicating that he had been this way for a while already. 

His first impulse was to yell for his siblings to call an ambulance. He searched his brain for the proper steps to take to perform CPR. He had seen Julio do it for his mother, and the images of that would forever be burned into his mind. When the first wave of panic passed, Rusty realized that it was too late for any of that. Andy Flynn had passed away in his sleep, quietly, peacefully. 

Tears ran down Rusty’s cheeks, but he did not bother to brush them away. He closed his eyes for a short moment and drew a shaky breath before he began to speak in a low voice. 

“I never really had a father until you came into our lives. I wish I had told you how much you mean to me."

It was something that Rusty had never said out loud, and he regretted that now. Leaning over, he placed a kiss against Andy’s forehead the way he had seen his mother do countless times. It felt a little strange, but he had the faint hope that everything he wanted to say and never had while he had the chance would be conveyed in that one, tender gesture, and that, in some way, it would be heard and understood. 

“Go and join her now. It’s time for you to be together again.” 

He was barely able to get the last words past the huge lump in his throat as even more tears streamed down his face. He straightened the blanked a little and folded Andy’s hands in his lap before he rose to find his siblings. 

 

It was strange to look at his own body, and the sight of the four young adults standing around his lifeless form, their grief like a heavy blanket over the room. Steve held a sobbing Emily in his arms, and Ricky had placed his hand on Rusty’s shoulder in silent support. 

Andy wanted to comfort them, tell them not to worry about him. He wanted to take their pain away and see them laugh again. Instead, all he was able to do was watch, unable to touch, to reassure, to help them understand that he was fine. 

When a small hand slipped into his, its fingers intertwining with his, he was not startled. There was no need for him to turn his head away from the children to know who was standing beside him. He would always recognize her presence, the heat emanating from her slight body, the subtle scent of her perfume, the feel of her hand in his. 

“It is okay to let go now, my love,” she said quietly, her deep, melodious voice music to his ears. “You gave them everything they needed. They will be alright.” 

She squeezed his hand gently, and when he finally looked down at her, there was a tender smile on her face, and her eyes were alight with joy and love. For the first time in months Andy was able to breathe freely again. The heavy weight of grief was lifted off his shoulders, and his heart was suddenly light with happiness. She was by his side again. The loneliness and despair of the past months no longer mattered. He was reunited with his love, and in her, he finally found peace again.


End file.
